Landstrider
by HybridsRule792
Summary: Bastard. Mongrel. That's what Cedric Vettane is. He came to Skyrim to track down his father, and finds himself in a land divided by war and its sky filled with dragons. He will commit many deeds, some good, some foul, but all mighty. In the Dovahkiin's quest to find his father, there will be blood.
1. Chapter 1: Unbound

Chapter 1: Unbound

It was the teeth-rattling bumping that woke Cedric up. When he opened his eyes, he found himself propped up in the back of a wagon, with ropes digging painfully into his wrists. Looking around, Cedric saw three other men in the cart with him, each bound in the same fashion. Nords, two blonde, one dark. One was clad in clothes similar to his own, another in what looked to be some light armor, and the last in a noble's finery. For some reason, that one was also gagged.

"Hey, you." Said the warrior. "You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?" without waiting for an answer, he continued. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

The brown haired man glared at him. "Damn you Stormcloaks." He growled. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He turned to Cedric. "You there... You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

The soldier sighed. "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

The voice of their driver cracked like a whip. "Shut up back there!"

After a moment's hesitation, the brown haired man gestured at the noble. "And what's wrong with him, huh?"

The soldier bristled. "Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" asked the dark man, astonished.

Cedric's ears pricked up. Windhelm! The word Mother had repeated over and over again, as she lay dying. "Where is Windhelm?" he asked, struggling to stem the tide of painful memories that threatened to flood from the dark recesses of his mind.

The soldier glanced at Ulfric, the jarl, then back at Cedric. "North and east." He answered. "Why do you want to know?"

"It was the last word my mother ever said." Cedric said quietly.

The soldier's eyes softened. "What's your name, boy?" he asked.

"Cedric."

"Ralof. I'd wish you good fortune in your journey, but Sovngarde awaits us."

Cedric set his jaw stubbornly. "Not yet. First, I need to find my father in whatever winesink he's hiding in and beat him bloody."

Ralof smiled. "I wish I had your spirit, boy. But look around. It's the end of the line."

XXXXXX

The Legionnaire with the list was staring at Cedric with the usual look of bewilderment that men and mer gave whenever they first met him. Trying to decide whether I'm a Nord or a Breton. The confusion was understandable. His height and eyes were from his Nord father, but his dark brown hair and the barely perceptible points to his ears were unmistakably Breton. Further adding to the confusion was that he was not quite as heavily built as most Nords, but nor was he as slim as most Bretons.

The Legionnaire looked uncomfortable. "Where are you from, prisoner?" he asked, not unkindly.

"It doesn't matter." Cedric grumbled sullenly. "Leave my corpse for the crows. I want some good to come out of my death. May as well give the birds a meal."

The legionnaire turned to his commander. "Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list."

"Forget the list!" snapped the Captain. "He goes to the block."

The legionnaire's jaw clenched. "He's just a boy, ma'am." He protested.

The captain glared at her subordinate, then jabbed a finger at Cedric. "To. The. Block."

As he followed the captain, Cedric began contemplating whether or not he could take a few of the bastards down with him. Living with an orc in the house had made him a competent fighter, but he was unarmed, and wouldn't be able to wield any weapons while his hands were bound in any case. He did know a few spells, and he might be able to melt some faces off before he was cut down, or sprouted feathers like the man who'd tried to run. They were going to kill him anyway. He may as well die fighting. Cedric took a deep breath. He focused, and summoned a tiny ball of flame to his hand. He was about to loose it, when a strange sound filled the air, faintly rebounding across the towers of the town.

The man with the list started. "What was that?"

The Imperial general dismissed the sound. "It's nothing. Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius." Acknowledged the captain. Turning to a nearby priest, she ordered "Give them their last rites."

There was a lot of shouting as the first soldier was executed. Cedric ignored it. He instead focused on the tiny black dot on the horizon. A bird? No. He shouldn't have been able to see it from that far.

"The mongrel in rags!"

There was that sound. Gods be damned, what was it?

The list holder noticed as well. "There it is again. Did you hear that?"

The captain remained unfazed. "I said, next prisoner!"

The young legionnaire looked pained. "To the block, prisoner." He ordered. "Nice and easy."

Cedric started, and glanced once more at the Imperial soldiers all around him. Their faces were stone. All thoughts of going down fighting had vanished. _Fuck me bloody. I'm about to die._ He realized. He sighed, and walked over to the chopping block. The thing was still covered in the blood of the last man to lie upon it. Instinctively, he recoiled, but the headsman behind him shoved him down. He felt cold mud beneath his knees, contrasting sharply with the still-warm blood that was staining his clothes. Cedric stretched out his neck, to be sure the headsman would strike true. One quick cut. The last sound he would hear would be the blade slicing through his neck…

When the sound came again, there was no mistaking it. With a crash that sent Cedric sprawling in the mud, the dragon slammed down atop the tower, its claws digging into stone like knives in soft cheese. Everyone started screaming. The beast opened its great jaws and spoke in an alien tongue, its voice as deep and strong as Nirn itself. Fire rained from the sky, and Cedric stared, dumbstruck. A dragon. Gods above, a dragon!

"Hey, boy!" bellowed Ralof. "Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!"

Cedric didn't move. He stared at the black horror perched atop the tower, watching as a group of soldiers launched a volley of arrows at the beast. The steel tips bounced harmlessly off the creature's armored hide, and the dragon spoke yet again, and the men shrieked as they were consumed in flame. Cedric could feel the heat from fifty feet away. Smell the hair and flesh and leather _burning_ , and hear the crackle of their corpses as they smoldered. _That_ got him moving. Death by headsman's axe was one thing, but being burned alive was quite another. He sprinted after Ralof, legs pumping so furiously that he overtook the Nord and nearly collided with the man holding the door open to the nearby tower. Cedric leaned over to catch his breath as Ralof burst into the tower, and the man at the door slammed it shut behind him. Cedric looked around, to see a wounded soldier being tended by a companion, and the now un-gagged Ulfric Stormcloak.

Ralof turned to him. "Jarl Ulfric! What was that thing? Could the legends be true?"

"No, clearly it was all myth." Cedric said sarcastically between gasps. "What do you think?"

The Jarl looked over at him coldly, then turned to Ralof. "Legends don't burn down villages. We need to move. Now!"

Ralof clapped Cedric on the arm. "Up through the tower, let's go!" he urged.

He started up the stairs, and the soldier who'd held the door ran up past him. Cedric followed, until he noticed that the way was blocked by stone. "What about all this ru-" he began, but his words were cut off by a thunderous crash and a scream as the soldier was sent flying by the exploding wall, revealing the head of the dragon. This time Cedric could make out words when it spoke.

"Yol…Toor…Shul!" the beast bellowed, and a jet of flame erupted from its maw, sending Cedric staggering back. When the torrent of death subsided, the creature withdrew, taking back to the skies.

From beside him, Ralof pointed through the newly made hole at a nearby building. "See the inn on the other side?" He asked. Cedric nodded. "Jump through the roof and keep going! Go! We'll follow when we can!"

Steeling himself, Cedric took several steps back, then ran forward, leaping down to the inn below. The jolt of impact as he hit the floor sent him to his knees, but he was up in a flash, running forward to drop through a hole in the floor and out a nearby doorway.

The shadow of the dragon passed overhead, and Cedric saw the legionnaire from before trying to get a small boy to safety. "Torolf!" he roared, as a nearby man was consumed in fire. "Gods…" he gasped, before bellowing "Everyone get back!" Then he noticed Cedric. "Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." He turned to another man. "Gunnar, take care of the boy." He commanded. "I have to find General Tullius and join their defense."

"Gods guide you, Hadvar." Gunnar said.

Hadvar nodded in acknowledgment, then took off toward the keep.

Cedric followed, and as they moved between two buildings, Hadvar yelled "Stay close to the wall!"

Not a moment too soon, for as the words left his mouth, the black beast alighted on the building to the left, letting forth another torrent of flame before flying off again.

"That was close!" Hadvar exclaimed, as they took off again, weaving through the shattered timbers of what had once been a house.

They ran past a bunch of Imperial soldiers, firing arrows and obscenities at the dragon with equal fervor. Cedric heard the Imperial general yell at Hadvar they were leaving, before running off with his men.

Hadvar turned to Cedric. "It's you and me, prisoner. Stay close!" He looked back toward the keep. That was when he saw Cedric's acquaintance from the wagon. "Ralof, you damned traitor!" he spat. "Out of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar." Said Ralof. You're not stopping us this time."

"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" Hadvar snarled.

Ralof looked over at Cedric. "You, come on, into the keep!" he said, and without waiting for an answer, he took off.

"With me, prisoner, let's go!" said Hadvar, starting towards another entrance.

Cedric had only an instant to decide what to do. A well-armed, well-equipped Legionnaire, or a hide wrapped rebel? He made his choice.

When Hadvar and Cedric entered the keep, both dropped to the floor in relief. "Are you alright, boy?" asked Hadvar.

Cedric nodded, breathing heavily, and listening to the rapid Thud-Thud-Thud! of his heartbeat. "I'm good. You?"

"I'm in one piece. That's all I can say." Hadvar reached for his sword, caused Cedric to reflexively ready a Flames spell. Hadvar froze. "Easy there! I'm just going to cut your bonds."

Sheepishly, Cedric extinguished the Flames and held out his hands. "Sorry about that."

The Imperial blade cut right through the bindings. "It's alright. You have good instincts, though. The Legion could use a soldier like you." Hadvar glanced at the door. "It looks like we're the only ones who made it." He got to his feet. "We need to get moving. There's some gear over there that you could use."

Cedric made his way over to the chest that Hadvar had indicated. Inside was standard issue Imperial light armor and boots, good, tough leather, with a bit of chainmail underneath. The sword, however, was far less impressive. He held it up with a grimace. "Cheap iron." He pronounced. "I suppose I could kill a goat with this, if the goat didn't fight back."

"Sorry. All the good stuff was outside with the soldiers. Hey, is there a key anywhere in that thing?"

Cedric pulled the armor over his head, then glanced at the inside of the chest. "Yeah. Right here." He grabbed the key, and went to search the other chests, finding a light helmet and a bit of gold. He heard the clinking of metal, and glanced over to see Hadvar pulling a chain on the wall. Gears ground into motion, and the gate that filled the door opened.

"Let's go." Said Hadvar, starting down the hall. They came to another gate, and Hadvar was about to open it, when voices rang out from the other side. Instinctively, Cedric dashed over to Hadvar and took cover behind the wall.

"We need to get moving!" said a gruff male voice. "That dragon is tearing up the whole keep!"

"Just… give me a minute to catch my breath." The second speaker was a woman.

"Stormcloaks." Hadvar whispered. "Maybe we can reason with them."

Before Cedric could tell him what a stupid idea that was, Hadvar had activated the mechanism to open the gate and was walking into open view. Cedric followed, loosening his sword in its scabbard. "Kinsmen," Hadvar called, raising his hands in a placating gesture, "listen, we don't want to fight-"

"Death to the Empire!" shouted the man, unslinging the war-hammer on his back, while the woman unclipped a cruelly spiked iron mace from her belt.

Hadvar had just enough time to draw his sword and raise his shield before the hammer slammed into it, sending the Imperial Legionnaire staggering back.

That was all Cedric saw of Hadvar's fight before the woman was on him, howling a savage battle cry, and the training he'd received from Vorag gro-Drash took over. The woman swung her mace toward his head, but his blade was there to meet it, batting it aside. The soldier bared her teeth and raised her shield just in time to block Cedric's counter slash. He hammered away at her, using his lack of a shield to shift to a two-handed grip, allowing him to put his full weight into his attack. Chips of wood splintered away as he drove her back, forcing her closer to the wall. She would get desperate soon. "Yield!" he shouted. "I don't want to hurt you!"

"Never, you Imperial dog!" she yelled. "I'm going to rape you like a little bitch!"

Where in Oblivion did that come from? Cedric wondered, briefly ceasing his assault. The soldier seized on his hesitation by attempting to smash his knee. It was a move that Vorag had used on him a few times before, and he responded with his typical counter. Sidestepping, then hacking at Vorag's weapon hand with all his strength, knocking the mace from his grasp. Except this time, his foe wasn't wearing the finest Orcish armor. This time, his foe hadn't stopped herself from overextending in a reckless attack. Instead of clanging against an Orichalcum enclosed wrist, his blade took her between shoulder and elbow, cleaving through flesh and muscle and bone to send the woman's arm flopping to the floor in a gout of blood. The scream that tore from her lips made his heart wrench. A quick slash across the throat quieted her, and ended her pain with a wet gurgle.

Hadvar's foe glanced over at the sound, just long enough to have an Imperial sword slash through his layers of leather and open him from his right shoulder to his left hip. He fell to the ground, something slimy poking from the tear near his belly.

Cedric felt his stomach roil at the sight. Hadvar saw the expression on his face, and walked over to him.

"First time you ever killed a woman?" He asked.

Cedric took a deep breath. "First time I killed anyone."

Hadvar nodded. "You did well."

Cedric tried desperately not to look at the bodies. The woman was sprawled on her back, her face frozen in a mask of anguish. "I feel sick." He confessed.

Hadvar laughed. "That's nothing. My first fight I came out smelling of piss and shit. Speaking of which…"

Cedric took a sniff and wrinkled his nose. "By the Nine!" He exclaimed "You really do shit yourself when you die."

Hadvar nodded. "Aye. Now come on. We need to get moving."

XXXXXX

The sudden glare of sunlight blinded Cedric for a moment as he emerged from the mouth of the cave. "We made it." Hadvar breathed.

A roar ripped through the air. Instinctively, Cedric grabbed Hadvar and dragged him behind a nearby boulder. The pair crouched, unmoving, for several moments, as the winged terror flew by, heading north. Only when the monster had disappeared over the horizon did they emerge from cover.

Cedric let out a sigh of relief. "It's gone. Thank the Nine!"

Hadvar raised an eyebrow at him. "The Nine? You still worship Talos?"

"A slip of the tongue." Cedric said hastily. "Old habits."

"You weren't alive before the Great War." Hadvar noted. "I don't think that will work as an excuse against someone who cares."

"So you're not going to turn me in for treason?" Cedric asked.

Hadvar laughed. "After how many times you saved my life back there? Not a chance."

"So I'm free to go?"

"Yes. But if you need a place to stay, you could come with me to Riverwood. My uncle is blacksmith there."

Cedric considered a moment. "Sure." He agreed.

"Then let's be off. Riverwood isn't too far from here."

XXXXXX

"So how old are you, anyway?" Hadvar asked as they walked.

"Sixteen." Cedric replied, trying to scrape dried blood from the hide shield he'd taken off one of the Stormcloaks.

"Why did you come to Skyrim all alone?"

Cedric didn't respond for a long moment. "To find my father." He said at last, quashing the smell of sickness from his mind.

Hadvar nodded. "What's his name?"

Cedric shrugged. Never once had his mother told him who his father was. Vorag and Tellyn knew, he was sure, but they would never say. Vorag had said nothing on the matter, and Tellyn Manodil, scoundrel that he was, had told Cedric he was a Nord. Like it wasn't obvious. Cedric had never heard anything about his father until, in the last few days of her life, Cedric's mother had started muttering about Windhelm.

"You don't know his name?" Hadvar gave a whistle. "That complicates matters, don't you think? How are you going to find him?"

"I'm pretty sure he's from Windhelm." Cedric said. "My mother kept saying 'Windhelm' when she was… she was dying." Cedric felt a lump forming in his throat. Speaking faster now, he continued "Tellyn and Vorag, this Dunmer and this Orc who my mother was friends with, I know that they know who he is, but they wouldn't tell me! So I left in the middle of the night with everything I could carry, and crossed the border from High Rock a few days later. I got captured by an Imperial patrol, and here I am." The outburst had left Cedric breathless, and for several moments the only sounds between them were his quickened breathing and their footsteps.

Hadvar looked at him thoughtfully. "Sounds like you got some travelling to do. But first-" he pointed, and Cedric spotted a village that looked only a few miles away, "why don't you come to my uncles house and spend the night, eh? Rest up for the journey?"

Cedric gazed at the village in the distance. It promised a hearth and a roof. Warmth and safety. But when Cedric saw it, he couldn't help but remember the dragon… and imagine it all burning.

 **Author's Note: And there it is! That miserable first quest has been completed! Honestly, it's got to be the most irritating one in the whole game, with how many times I'm sure we've all done it. I'd like to note that I will be doing time skips throughout the quests, mostly the dungeon bits, given how monotonous they are. If you enjoyed the story, or if you didn't, I'd love to hear what you have to say! Also, if anyone has any important lore knowledge for me, feel free to hit me up! I've only really extensively played Skyrim. ESO I have a smattering of, and I only got Oblivion about two weeks ago as of today( three bucks at the thrift-store, total steal). Mostly I'd be looking for stuff on Bretons, High Rock, and Orsinium, but any wisdom is greatly appreciated!**

 **I hope you all enjoyed,**

 **HybridsRule792**


	2. Chapter 2: Dragonborn

Chapter 2: Dragonborn

Cedric tightened his grip around the handle of the ancient Nord war axe in his hand. The new weapon had been scavenged from one of the draugr he had slain while making his way through Bleak Falls Barrow. Running his thumb over the musty old leather that enclosed the grip, he cursed the incompetent blacksmith who had forged his previous weapon. The blasted thing had broken after Cedric had delivered a particularly vicious blow to the helmeted skull of one of the undead. _That_ one had died, but Cedric had received a nasty cut to the arm from the opportunistic bastard who had come at him with the axe he was now carrying. A blast of Flames had dispatched it, and a few moments of a Healing spell had sealed the wound, but Cedric didn't much enjoy winning fights by the skin of his teeth. He had fought through several more of the dead Nords, a giant spider, and then, with a golden claw he'd retrieved from the corpse of an idiotic thief, he'd managed to open one of the famed Nordic puzzle doors to the chamber he was in now.

Cedric could see an elevated area on the far side of the chamber, which looked to be a decent enough place to look for the dragon stone that Farengar Secret-Fire had asked him to retrieve.

As he walked across the cavernous room, Cedric began to hear a faint chanting. He raised his shield, and crept slowly forward, senses alert. There was a sarcophagus on the platform, he noticed. Cedric waited for it to burst open, for the draugr to crawl out, but it remained motionless. With one last suspicious glance at the sarcophagus, Cedric continued toward the sound of the voices, which seemed to be coming from somewhere near a curved wall with strange glyphs carved into it. As he drew closer, Cedric noticed one particular cluster seemed to be emitting a blue glow. That was where the voices where coming from! Cedric moved toward it, and as he did so, he felt a rush of air surge out from the wall, penetrating him, flooding his mind, filling him with the thought of… Force? What Force?

Before he could wonder on what in Oblivion had just happened, Cedric heard a noise. The lid of the sarcophagus had been thrown open, and rising out of it was a massive draugr. Cedric readied himself for its assault. However as the creature's pale glowing eyes fixed on him, instead of charging, it opened its lipless mouth, and from its shriveled throat emerged a bellowing rasp of " ** _Fus…Ro-Da!_** "

The air between them rippled, as a pulse of power slammed into Cedric and sent him hurtling off the platform and onto the floor below. Cedric felt the breath go whooshing out of him, and he lost his grip on his axe. His shield would have been gone as well, were it not strapped to his arm.

Cedric sat up, his vision going fuzzy. The draugr was coming down the steps, a massive greatsword in its hand, moving straight for him. Rising to one knee, Cedric stretched out his arm and let loose a jet of Flames that caused the draugr's shriveled grey skin to char and blacken. It slowed, but still kept coming, its pale blue eyes burning with malice. If its features had not withered away, Cedric was sure it would be snarling in rage. He raised his shield as it reached him, and the blow it dealt him split his shield and returned him to his back. Cedric rolled out of the way just it attempted to cut him in two. He managed to get to his feet, but he was still dazed. He saw the draugr had gotten its sword stuck in a crack in the stone floor, and was attempting to pull it out. Giving a quick thanks to the gods for his luck, Cedric proceeded to take the fight to the draugr. If he hadn't been mildly stunned at the time, he may have noticed that his axe was only a few feet off to his right. Since he _was_ mildly stunned at the time, he tackled the draugr, which he would later realize was incredibly stupid.

Caught completely off-guard, the draugr went down with an angry snarl. Vorag and Tellyn had each taught him their own particular method of brawling, and this time, Cedric employed the Dunmer's fast and lethal approach. With the speed of an arrow, he drove his fist repeatedly into the draugr's throat. Had this been done on a living opponent, this would have crushed their windpipe, and resulted in them dying of lack of air. However, seeing how the draugr was dead, and had no need to breathe, there was no effect whatsoever. When this attack failed, it was Cedric's turn to be caught off-guard, as the draugr's skeletal hands closed about his throat and slammed him into the floor. The draugr sat upon Cedric's chest, and though it was a bit lighter than a normal man, it made up for weight with its ferocious grip. The draugr snarled and clacked its teeth. _Oh gods._ Cedric thought. _Is it going to eat me?_

Unable to bear the idea, he grabbed the draugr by the neck. Flames erupted from his palms, burning away at the creature's throat. Cedric's vision was beginning to dim. _Come on!_ He thought, his mental voice a scream inside his head. He poured every drop of magicka he had into the spell, creating a roaring inferno that seared his eyes, blinding him. He heard a _Clang!_ as something metal and heavy hit the floor. The hands at his throat slackened, and an armored chest fell onto him.

Gasping and blinking away bright afterimages, Cedric pushed the corpse onto the floor. He lay there for several minutes, panting, relieved that he was alive.

His plan had worked. The spell had burned right through the draugr's neck. Had anyone ever used Flames to cut off someone's head? Cedric didn't think so.

He hauled himself up, threw aside his broken shield, and started casting a Healing spell. _Now,_ he thought, _where is that stupid rock?_

XXXXXX

Fire and rubble surrounded the Western Watchtower of Whiterun.

"No signs of any dragon right now." Observed Irileth, housecarl of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater. The pointed a grey finger towards the flames. "But it sure looks like he's been here." Turning to the Whiterun guards, she raised her voice. "I know it looks bad, but we've _got_ to figure out what happened. And if that dragon is still skulking around somewhere." The guards began to mutter amongst themselves, but Irileth barked "Spread out and look for survivors! We need to know what we're dealing with."

Obeying reluctantly, the men began to fan out, examining the rubble. Cedric made his way toward the tower, and as he climbed the steps, a man burst from the tower, eyes mad with terror. "No! Get back!" he shrieked, running towards Cedric.

Cedric grabbed him by the arms and gave him a shake. "Calm down, you're safe." He assured the man.

The guard shook his head. "It's still here somewhere!" He yelled. His lip began to tremble. "Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!"

Irileth, who had noticed the commotion, ran up the stairs. "Guardsman! What happened here? Where's this dragon? Quickly now!" she barked.

The guardsman shook his head. "I don't know." Then, his eyes locked on something behind Cedric. "Kynareth save us…" He breathed, and Cedric just had time to register the faint scent of urine before the man screamed "Here it comes again!"

A familiar roar filled Cedric's ears, and he felt a cold weight in the pit of his stomach. He whirled, drawing his axe and raising his new shield.

"Here he comes!" shouted Irileth. "Find cover and make every arrow count!"

No one needed to be told twice. The soldiers scattered to the piles of stone, and readied arrows. Cedric followed a group of guards to the cover of a large boulder, where they began firing off arrows at the beast. Not a single one hit their mark. The dragon dived, letting loose a shout, followed by a jet of flame that cooked six of the guards alive. It hovered over its kills, and to Cedric's horror, began to laugh.

"You provide me with fine sport, mortals!" the beast jeered. " **Zu fen kipraan!** Soon your puny bodies will fill my belly!"

Cedric looked at the guards beside him. He couldn't see their faces beneath their helmets, but they were trembling with terror. His heart was racing too, but they couldn't let fear stop them. "What are you waiting for?!" he shouted. "Shoot it!"

None of them moved. Snarling, Cedric snatched the bow and arrow from the man nearest to him and let off a shot at the beast's head. He must have hit a chink in the dragon's armor, because the arrow lodged in the ridge above its eye. The creature roared in agony, and beat its wings furiously, gaining altitude.

The sight of the dragon in pain snapped the soldiers from their paralysis. They began screaming curses and firing shots, as the dragon circled above them.

Cedric handed the bow back to the man he'd taken it from. "If that oversized lizard wants to try and eat us, let him." He growled. "I personally think the leather from its wings would make a fine cape."

What he did next was equal parts stupidity and bravery. Drawing his axe, Cedric leaped over their cover and ran straight into the open. "Dragon!" he yelled. "Land and face me, you sniveling worm! I challenge you to single combat!"

"No, you gallant fool!" shouted Irileth. "Get back to cover!"

The dragon floated several hundred feet in the air. "I will devour your flesh, **joor**!" it bellowed. "And when I finish crushing your bones between my teeth, I shall consume the ants who fight beside you, and burn your city to _ash_. **Zu'u Mirmulnir**! I shall tear you limb from limb, and send your soul to the World-Eater! I accept!"

Mirmulnir landed in front of Cedric with a crash that sent up a cloud of dust. The guard whose bow Cedric had taken, attempting to help, tried to sneak up behind the dragon, sword raised. "No!" Cedric shouted, but it was too late.

With a contemptuous flick of his tail, Mirmulnir sent the man flying into a pile of rubble, where his skull shattered against an unyielding stone. The guards raised their bows, but Cedric yelled "Hold your fire! This is between him and me!"

Something glinted in Mirmulnir's reptilian eyes. Was it respect? "You are brave, **joor**." The dragon said. " **Balaan hokoron**. Your defeat brings me honor."

And with that, he opened his great jaws, and bellowed " ** _Yol…Toor-Shul!_** " A stream of fire tore from Mirmulnir's maw, even as Cedric was rolling aside, missing him by inches. He was up on his feet in an instant, charging the mighty beast with his axe raised. Mirmulnir lashed out with his clawed wing, a blow that would have pulverized Cedric's insides if it had connected. But Cedric leapt over the strike, bringing his axe down in midair and sinking it into the carpet-thick wing membrane. Mirmulnir roared, and attempted to fling Cedric off. But the axe was sunk deep, and as Cedric held on with all his might, his weight, combined with the motion of Mirmulnir himself, caused Cedric and the axe to slide down the wing, tearing a ragged, fleshy hole into it. The soldiers cheered as the dragon loosed another howl of anguish, and Cedric thought he might have heard Irileth shouting "Get him, you beautiful bastard! Get him!"

Cedric leapt off of Mirmulnir's wounded wing, and ran toward his monstrous head, his gaze locked onto a gap in the armored plating of his throat. Mirmulnir snapped at him, but Cedric dropped to the ground. The chink he had been eying was right above him. Gripping his axe with two hands, Cedric swung with all his might. Despite the fact that he was on his back, Cedric's aim was true. The ancient Nord blade cleaved through the flesh beneath the plate, sending a gout of hot blood pouring down onto Cedric's face. Cedric rolled out from under the dragon's head, just quickly enough to avoid being crushed.

A great cheer rose from the guards as the dragon fell. Mirmulnir was barely alive, but through the wound in his throat, he gargled out a few more breaths. " **Hi balaan paal.** You are strong, **joor**. When I return… we shall meet again." The dragon's breath stopped, and it lay still.

The Whiterun guards ran to congratulate Cedric, pounding him on the back and showering him with praise.

"There's a song in this, by the gods!"

"I've never seen anyone fight like that, it was amazing!"

"Wait!" said Irileth, and everyone fell silent. "Something's happening!"

And indeed there was. The dragon's skin was peeling away, rising into the air like pieces of ash. As Cedric watched, the dragon's flesh was consumed in golden flame, before transforming into a whirl of brilliant white energy and flowing directly into… him!

A feeling of warmth spread through Cedric's limbs, energizing his sore muscles and invigorating his mind. The word he had seen in Bleak Falls Barrow surged to the forefront of his consciousness. Force. He understood its meaning now, its _true_ meaning, and that meaning was building up inside him, swelling, pushing its way out. It would burst forth any moment, he couldn't contain it any longer!

With a great gulp of air, Cedric filled his lungs, opened his mouth, and as the power threatened to overtake him… he _Shouted_.

" ** _Fus!_** " A surge of energy burst through the space in front of him, sending a titanic ripple through the air.

"Ysmir's beard!" gasped one of the guards. "That was a Dragon Shout!" He stared open-mouthed at Cedric. "You… you're a Dragonborn!"

"What?" asked Cedric.

"You killed that dragon… stole its power." Said the guard. "My grandfather used to tell me stories of people with dragon blood in 'em, like old Tiber Septim."

"I never heard of Tiber Septim killing any dragons." Muttered a different guard.

"That's because there weren't any dragons around then, idiot!" snapped the first guard. "This is the first time they've been seen in… forever."

"What do you think, Irileth?" Cedric asked. The Dunmer was being awfully quiet.

"If you can kill a dragon…" the housecarl said, "that's good enough for me."

Suddenly, Cedric felt a surge of power ripple through him. His entire body tingling, the earth shook, and the air vibrated with the force of one word:  
" ** _Dovahkiin._** "

"Oh gods…" gasped the first guard. "That was the Greybeards! Irileth, they're summoning the Dragonborn to High Hrothgar!"

Irileth remained quiet for a long moment, regarding Cedric with her blood red eyes. Then, speaking loudly, so as to be heard over the muttering of the guards, she said "Let's get back to Whiterun! We need to tell the Jarl what happened here."

XXXXXX

Jarl Balgruuf the Greater remained absolutely silent upon his throne as Irileth delivered the report on what had happened at the watchtower. The way she described Cedric's battle with Mirmulnir, one would never have guessed that Cedric had been completely terrified for the whole duration of the fight. When she was done, he turned to Cedric.

"I never would have guessed it. A boy prettier than any woman I've ever seen, Dragonborn! Did you really absorb the beast's soul?"

"I definitely felt some sort of power rush into me." agreed Cedric. "That, and a whole lot of dragon blood onto my armor." He feigned a sigh. "I'll never be able to get in a battle again. Everyone who sees me will assume I'm sort of lunatic and run away."

The Jarl let out a hearty laugh. "Never fear. I'll have my servants clean your armor for you. It's the least I could give you, after the service you've done me and my city."

Cedric bowed slightly. "It was an honor, my Jarl. Anyone would have done it."

Balgruuf smiled. "No need to be so modest, my boy. You have done a mighty deed, and I will see you rewarded! By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant. I assign you Lydia as a personal Housecarl, and a weapon from my armory to serve as your badge of office. I'll also notify my guards of your new title. Wouldn't want them to think you're part of the common rabble, now would we? We are honored to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn."

Cedric bowed again, gratitude welling up inside him. "Thank you, my Jarl. I… I don't know what to say."

"Think nothing of it!" Balgruuf said. "Before you journey to High Hrothgar, we shall have a feast in your honor. If there is anything else you would have of me, let it be known. If it is within my power, I shall grant it."

Overwhelmed, Cedric took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Well, my Jarl… there is one thing."

"Yes?"

"I came to the land of Skyrim to find my father. It would mean a great deal to me… if you could have your men search your hold for him. I don't know his name, but I believe he is from Windhelm. If they could ask for any man who knows of Luciele Vettane, my mother… I would be in your debt."

Jarl Balgruuf rose from his throne, and put his hand on Cedric's shoulder. "The debt is mine, and Whiterun's. My men shall scour the hold, my boy. If your father is in my lands, he will be found."

Cedric's vision was getting blurry. Somehow, the smoke from the fire must have reached him. "Thank you, my Jarl."

"No." said Balgruuf. "Thank you. Every man, woman and child in this city owes you their lives. You have proven yourself a hero, Cedric Vettane. We Nords have a long memory, and your deeds will not be forgotten. Proventus!"

The Jarl's steward scurried over. "Yes, my Jarl?"

"See to it that the Dragonborn requests are carried out. Have a room prepared for him upstairs, he shall spend the night here. And give him the deed to that empty house, and have it filled with the necessary furnishings. He and Lydia will need a place to stay when he returns from High Hrothgar. And as for the feast-"

The Imperial blanched. "You wish to give him Breezehome… for _free_ , my Jarl?" he interrupted.

Balgruuf flashed Avenicci a look of irritation. "Yes! We all owe him our lives, he damn well deserves to have a home in the city! See it done!"

Proventus Avenicci bowed low. "Apologies, my Jarl. It shall be as you command."

"Good. And see to it that a feast is prepared immediately."

"At once, my Jarl." The steward bowed once more, and hurried off towards the kitchens.

Balgruuf turned back to Cedric. "I must go speak with Farengar about the cities defenses. I will see you at the feast tonight."

The Jarl walked off, Irileth trailing behind him. As she passed Cedric, Irileth leaned in and whispered in his ear "Nice job out there today." Cedric felt her hand smack against his ass as she walked by.

He went rigid, and was left standing in the hall utterly confused. Irileth didn't seem like the type to be open to such open displays of flirtation, especially with someone who was decades her junior. Granted, that wasn't much time for a Dunmer, but still… First the Stormcloak saying she'd rape him, now this? Cedric hadn't met very many women in his life, but he was reasonably sure from the tales Tellyn had told him that seduction didn't really go the way it seemed to be going for him. Maybe being Dragonborn granted some form of mystical animal magnetism? There were far stranger forms of magic.

Cedric made his way upstairs, and found a few rolls of paper, a quill and ink. He had decided to write a letter to Tellyn and Vorag, who had no idea where he had gone, and possibly thought he was dead.

Where to begin? He had a wondrous tale to tell, and it seemed the adventure was only just beginning. Tonight, he would feast and revel, and tomorrow, he would begin down the road to High Hrothgar. He would meet the Greybeards, and learn what it meant to be Dragonborn.

 **Author's Note: Aaaand Chapter 2! Ta-dah! First shout is a go. Now, we just need to get a little bit more of the Main Quest done before we can get to the fun stuff. In case any of you are wondering, Cedric's good looks are TOTALLY magical in nature. I'll give you a hint as to what it is. Think Markarth. If you guess right before it gets explained, you'll get an extra special prize. Then again, if you're smart enough to figure it out just from that, you really ought to be writing your own story. Okay, hint outta the way. Any quest(lines) in particular you guys would like to see in the story, you let me know!**

 **Have a good one,**

 **HybridsRule792**


	3. Chapter 3: The Voice

Chapter 3: The Voice

"Watch out for wolves, they said." Cedric muttered to himself, as a raging white behemoth barreled towards him. "It would have been nice if they mentioned you, you furry bastard!" he shouted as the frost troll closed on him.

Unslinging the Axe of Whiterun from his back, leaping back as an arm the size of a small tree swung through the air he had just occupied. Cedric swung the battle axe, the steel blade whistling through the chilly air to cut a large gash in the thick layer of fatty tissue and muscle on the troll's vast chest. Immediately, the cut began to smoke, before a ripple of fire spread over the creature's body, the enchantment on the axe singing its fur and charring its skin. The beast howled in pain, throwing back its head and giving Cedric an unwanted view of its wicked fangs. Even from several feet away, the scent of rotting meat was unmistakable.

The beast came at him again, and Cedric delivered another blow, giving it a deep cut on the shoulder. He was wondering how one harvested troll fat, when he noticed that the first wound he had inflicted suddenly didn't seem so grievous. To his alarm, he saw that its scorched flesh was beginning to return to a normal color, even as the last flames from his second blow guttered out. _Boethiah's bunghole, its healing!_ He realized.

The troll swiped at Cedric's head, forcing him to duck. Gripping the axe near the blade, he delivered a quick chop to the brute's leg, while his free hand filled with a purple and black vortex of energy. Leaping back, Cedric unleashed his spell, and a nexus of energy appeared behind the troll, swirling the snow around it. An ethereal wolf shimmered into existence, snarling and baring its translucent fangs. _Get him._ Cedric thought, and the familiar obeyed, lunging at the troll and sinking its teeth into the troll's furry calf.

Cedric took a deep breath, and summoning the power deep within him, yelled " ** _Fus_**!" The troll staggered and fell into the snow, the familiar releasing its grip and taking the opportunity to lunge toward the beast's throat. The troll made a wild backhand strike, connecting with the familiar's head, and Cedric's summon fizzled out of existence. Even as it disappeared, however, Cedric was jumping to the attack, axe raised. With a savage battle cry, he brought it down, and the steel crashed into the troll's skull with a loud _Thunk!_ The beast twitched once as flames rippled across its face, then lay still. Its three eyeballs had melted and were oozing down its cheeks, goop from the center one sticking to Cedric's axe as he pulled it free.

Cedric looked down at the creature in disgust. "Well," he said to the carcass, "I think I just performed a miracle today. I managed to make you even uglier."

Wiping off his axe blade in the snow, Cedric returned it to his back, and continued up the mountain.

XXXXXX

The great doors closed with a mighty _Boom!_ As Cedric walked into the hall of High Hrothgar, he was greeted by the sight of a figure in hooded robes, kneeling on the stone floor. No sound could be heard, but for the crackling of flames in the braziers that lit the room. Cedric could feel the power of this place. He knew at a glance that there was more wisdom in these halls that any library in all of Tamriel.

Cedric walked over to the monk and knelt down beside him. "I have answered your summons, master." He said reverentially. Somehow, he knew that this man should be addressed with respect.

The old man nodded, and remained silent.

"I am here to learn what it means to be Dragonborn." Cedric continued.

The old man rose, but still remained silent.

Sure he must have done something wrong, Cedric said hurriedly "I apologize if I have done something to offend you, master. I am young, and ignorant of the ways of the Greybeards, but if there is anything I can do to atone for my mistake-"

Cedric heard several pairs of footsteps from behind him, and a voice interrupted "You need not apologize, Dragonborn."

Cedric leapt up, and saw that three more monks had appeared. The one in the middle was the one who had spoken. "Master Borri has not spoken the tongue of mortals for many years. And unfortunately," the speaker said, with a hint of exasperation, "he delights in using his silence to play little japes on those rare few who visit us."

Cedric glanced back at Borri, who was regarding him with a grin and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

"But enough of Master Borri and his antics." Continued the Greybeard. "I am Arngeir. These are Masters Wulfgar." The man on his right. "And Einarth."

"Why do they –you, Masters- not speak?" Cedric asked.

"There will be time for your questions later." Said Arngeir, as Borri walked around to join the trio. "First, we must have proof that you are Dragonborn. Let us taste of your Voice. Show us the power of your Thu'um."

Cedric hesitated. The power of his Shout was enough to stagger a full grown troll. What would it do to a bunch of old men?

As if reading his mind, Arngeir said "Do not be afraid. Your Shout will not harm us."

That put Cedric even more on edge. The Greybeards were evidently not as frail as they appeared.

"Alright." He said. "Here goes." Cedric took a deep breath, and summoning his power, shouted " ** _Fus_**!"

The four ancients each staggered back, but recovered quickly. To Cedric's surprise, Arngeir bowed. "Dragonborn. It is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar." Rising, he continued, "Now, as to your question, Masters Wulfgar, Einarth, and Borri do not speak because their Voices are too powerful for anyone not trained in the Way of the Voice to withstand. Even a whisper could be fatal."

"I'm ready to learn, Master." Said Cedric.

Arngeir nodded. "You have shown that you are Dragonborn. You have the inborn gift. But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen. Without training, you have already taken the first steps towards projecting your Voice into a Thu'um, a Shout. Now let us see if you are willing and able to learn. When you Shout, you speak in the language of dragons. Thus, your Dragon Blood gives you an inborn ability to learn Words of Power. All Shouts are made up of three Words of Power. As you master each Word, your Shout will become progressively stronger. Master Einarth will now teach you 'Ro,' the second Word in Unrelenting Force. Ro means 'Balance' in the dragon tongue. Combine it with Fus – 'Force' - to focus your Thu'um more sharply."

Einarth walked to the center of the room, Cedric following close behind him. "Ro…" Einarth whispered. Runes etched themselves into the floor, and Cedric felt the same rush of power as he had at Bleak Falls Barrow.

"You learn a new word like a master..." Breathed Arngeir. "You truly do have the gift. But learning a Word of Power is only the first step... you must unlock its meaning through constant practice in order to use it in a Shout. Well, that is how the rest of us learn Shouts. As Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain dragon's life force and knowledge directly. As part of your initiation, Master Einarth will allow you to tap into his understanding of 'Ro.'"

Einarth bowed, and an aura similar to the one that had surrounded Mirmulnir enveloped him, before flowing into Cedric, bringing with it the same understanding he had gained from the dragon.

"Now," said Arngeir, "let us see how quickly you can master your new Thu'um. Use your Unrelenting Force shout to strike the targets as they appear."

Borri stepped forward, breathed inward, and bellowed " ** _Fiik... Lo-Sah_**!"

A swirling vortex appeared, and coalesced into a ghostly apparition of Borri himself. It looked at Cedric as if to say _Well?_

Annoyed at the insolent look the thing was giving him Cedric yelled " ** _Fus…Ro!_** " A blast of energy tore through the air, slamming into the ethereal Borri and obliterating it.

"Well done." Said Arngeir. "Again."

This time it was Einarth who shouted, and again, the specter was eliminated.

"You learn quickly." Observed Arngeir. "Once more." Ordered Arngeir.

Wulfgar's summon was blasted apart almost as soon as it finished materializing.

"Impressive. Your Thu'um is precise. You show great promise, Dragonborn." Arngeir said. Cedric swelled with pride as he noticed the note of approval in the Greybeard's voice. "We will perform your next trial in the courtyard. Follow Master Borri."

XXXXXX

" ** _Wuld!_** "

In the blink of an eye, Cedric's legs carried him across the courtyard and through the gate. "Whoah!" gasped Cedric. He turned to Wulfgar, who had crossed the gate before him. "Thank you for the demonstration, Master Wulfgar."

Wulfgar nodded solemnly.

"And thank you as well, Master Borri. For teaching me the shout." Borri smiled at him and bowed.

Cedric walked over to Arngeir. "Your quick mastery of a new Thu'um is... astonishing." The Greybeard remarked, shaking his head. "I'd heard the stories of the abilities of Dragonborn, but to see it for myself..."

"Thank you, Master." Cedric said, bowing. "What next?"

"You are now ready for your last trial." Arngeir declared. "You must retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav. Remain true to the Way of the Voice, and you will return."

Cedric bowed. "I will, Master." He turned, and walked back into High Hrothgar. Only when the heavy doors had closed behind him, did he allow his grimace to show. Another fucking Nordic ruin. Great.

XXXXXX

 _You've got to be kidding me._ Cedric thought.

The pedestal that was _supposed_ to hold the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller instead had a scrap of paper resting on it. Cedric glanced over at one of the burial urns in the room, and imagined the pleasant feeling of the millennia old, historically valuable pottery shattering beneath the force of a kick from the new steel boots he had been given by Jarl Balgruuf the Greater.

First, the long, cold, miserable trip to find the damn place. Which, once he entered the marsh, became a long, cold, _wet_ miserable trip. Then, he had to fight through draugr, necromancers, frostbite spiders, a ridiculous gate, _and_ a flaming floor to get here. On top of all that, he had discovered another one of those walls with Words of Power on them, and now had the word "Fade" echoing about in his skull like an overzealous Tellyn Manodil ringing a cowbell beside his ear.

Simply put, the horn being taken had Cedric thoroughly miffed. He snatched up the note, flipped it over and read:

 _Dragonborn-_

 _I need to speak to you. Urgently._

 _Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you._

 _-A friend_

. Now he was going to have to walk all the way back to Riverwood. Crushing the note in his fist, Cedric incinerated it with a tiny burst of flames. He was going to smack whoever had taken the horn upside the head.

XXXXXX

"What do mean you don't have an attic room?" Cedric asked through clenched teeth. His feet were aching, and he was ready to collapse into the nearest bit of furniture softer than the ground.

"You can have the room on the left." The innkeeper said. "Make yourself at home."

Cedric handed over ten septims, and walked into the room, closing the door. He briefly considered stealing his gold back, but it wasn't right to cheat the innkeeper out of her honest living. Besides, tired as he was, he didn't think he would have his usual coordination, and he might very well get caught. He removed his armor, and laid his axe on the wall, but didn't bother to change out into the more comfortable clothes he had in his pack. He collapsed into the bed slipped a dagger under his pillow, and closed his eyes. The rough straw and hides felt as soft as the luxurious bed he'd slept in at Dragonsreach. _Is this what clouds feel like?_ Cedric wondered, before he drifted off into blessed, dreamless sleep.

XXXXXX

A slight squeak from the wooden floorboards woke Cedric from his slumber. Before he was fully awake, he had seized the dagger from under his pillow and was lunging groggily toward the noise.

"Whoah there!" said the voice of the innkeeper.

"What… what're you doing in my room?" Cedric asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

She ignored his question. "So," she said, "you're the Dragonborn I've been hearing so much about."

 _That_ got his attention. "How do you…"

"I think you've been looking for this." She held up a curved, dark horn. The Horn of Jurgen Windcaller! Cedric took it gingerly. "Come with me." She continued. "We need to talk."

The innkeeper led him out of the room and across the main hall of the inn. It was the middle of the night, and the fire in the center of the room had burned down to embers.

"What's your name again?" Cedric asked, feeling slightly foolish that he hadn't asked.

"Quiet!" she hissed. "Do you want to wake everyone up?!" she opened the door to the room opposite his. Once Cedric had followed her inside, she told him to close the door. After he had done so, she opened a wardrobe on the far side of the room. She fumbled around for a moment, then slid the back of the wardrobe aside, revealing a false back panel.

As Cedric followed her down the stairs, he gripped his dagger more tightly. If she wanted to cut his throat, this was the place to do it. The room they entered seemed to be the secret lair of a paranoid nutjob. Cedric spotted several food sacks, barrels, a few chests, an arcane enchanter a weapon rack, a training dummy, a shelf full of alchemy ingredients and potions, and an actual alchemy lab. It seemed as though this woman was prepared to be trapped down here, and to kill anyone who tried to make her come out.

"Delphine." She said gruffly.

"What?"

"Delphine. You asked what my name was. Gods, _you're_ the Dragonborn? I hope the Greybeards are right about you."

Cedric exhaled loudly to his nose. "If you're gonna just stand there and insult me lady, I think I'll just go back to bed. I may have only killed one dragon, but I bet it's one more dragon than you have. Now," he stretched, and yawned, "could you please tell me the reason you dragged me all the way out here? In the middle of the night?"

Delphine leaned against the table in the center of the room. "It was the only way I could make sure it wasn't a Thalmor trap. I'm not your enemy. I already gave you the horn. I'm actually trying to help you. I just need you to hear me out."

Cedric folded his arms, a difficult process, with the dagger in one hand and Horn in the other. He made his way to the other side of the table and growled "Start explaining. Now. I don't appreciate sleep deprivation."

Delphine sneered. "Missing out on beauty sleep, pretty boy?" Then her expression hardened. "I'll explain what I want when I want, got it? You'd already be dead if I didn't like the look of you when you walked in here."

Without moving his gaze from Delphine, Cedric's arm whipped out, sending the dagger in his hand right between the eyes of the training dummy in the corner. "Is that so?!" he snarled.

For a moment, they glared at each other, but then Delphine's lip curled. "I think so. You just through away your weapon."

Cedric reddened, his anger forgotten. "I could have thrown it at you if I wanted." He muttered sullenly.

"Look." Delphine sounded exasperated. "I'm part of a group that's been looking for you... well, someone like you, for a very long time. If you really are Dragonborn, that is. Before I tell you any more, I need to make sure I can trust you."

"What do you want with a Dragonborn?" Cedric asked.

"We remember what most don't" said Delphine. "That the Dragonborn is the ultimate dragonslayer. You're the only one that can kill a dragon permanently by devouring its soul." She leaned forward, and Cedric saw what looked like desperation in her eyes. "Can you do it? Can you devour a dragon's soul?"

"Yup." He said. "It tastes remarkably similar to chicken."

Delphine stared at him.

"Yes." He reiterated, more seriously. "I _can_ steal dragon souls. I did it with the dragon who was trying to attack Whiterun."

"Good. You'll have a chance to prove it soon enough."

After a long pause, Cedric asked "Why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me?"

Taking a deep breath, Delphine continued. "Dragons aren't just coming back, they're coming back to life. They weren't gone somewhere for all these years. They were dead, killed off centuries ago by my predecessors. Now something's happening to bring them back to life. And I need you to help me stop it."

Cedric gaped at her. "You're telling me that Necromancy works on _dragons_? How do you even know they're coming back from the dead?"

"Because I've visited their ancient burial mounds and found them _empty_. And I've figured out where the next one will come back to life. We're going to go there, and you're going to kill that dragon. If we succeed, I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"And you know this…how, exactly?" Cedric asked.

"The dragonstone you got for Farengar, remember? The dragonstone was a map of ancient dragon burial sites. I've looked at which ones are now empty. The pattern is pretty clear. It seems to be spreading from the southeast, down in the Jeralls near Riften. The one at Kynesgrove is next if the pattern holds."

"So you want me to kill the dragon there?"

Delphine nodded. "Yes. And if we get there before it happens, hopefully we'll learn how to stop it."

"Okay. I'll come with you." Cedric said. "But first," he held up the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, "I need to bring this back to High Hrothgar."

Delphine glared at him for a moment. "Fine. Meet me at Kynesgrove. Don't take too long up on that mountain though. Or else that dragon will probably have burned the whole place down by the time you get there."

XXXXXX

" ** _Dah._** " Breathed Wulfgar. Runes etched themselves into the floor, and Cedric felt the now familiar rush of a new Word of Power.

"With all three words together, this Shout is much more powerful. Use it wisely." Cautioned Arngeir. "Master Wulfgar will now gift you with his knowledge of 'Dah'."

Wulfgar bowed, and glowed with aura of light that flowed into Cedric, flooding him with heat. Cedric felt himself tremble as the full power of the Shout became known to him. These three Words had the power to… Gods. _I won't be able to use the full strength of this one very often._ Cedric thought. _I'll have to suppress my power most of the time, especially if I'm indoors._

He stared in awe at the Greybeards. Cedric had the full power of only a single shout. These men must have master dozens. It was no wonder they feared to speak. _The whole "kill with a whisper" thing wasn't an exaggeration._

"You have completed your training, Dragonborn." Said Arngeir. "We would Speak to you. Stand between us, and prepare yourself. Few can withstand the unbridled Voice of the Greybeards. But you are ready."

Cedric obeyed, walking to the center of the room, as the four Greybeards surrounded him. He steeled himself. When they spoke, the entire world trembled.

" ** _Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu'ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau. Naal Thu'umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor, ahrk naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth. Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok_**."

"Dovahkiin." Said Arngeir when it was done. "You have tasted the Voice of the Greybeards, and passed through unscathed. High Hrothgar is open to you."

The force of the Greybeards voice had sent Cedric to his knees. "Thank you, Master." He said. Rising to his feet, standing tall and proud, Cedric felt a new strength surging within him.

It was time to travel to Kynesgrove. He had a dragon to kill.

 **Author's Note: Chapter 3! Soon we shall break free of the shackles of the main questline, and be free to pursue more interesting endeavors. If there's any particular quest(lines) you guys would like to see done, feel free to leave a review and let me know! Or perhaps you all would like to delve a bit deeper into Cedric's past? Has anyone guessed the supernatural reason for his good looks? (The hint is Markarth) Is there any important lore I need to know? Criticisms (or praise ;)) you' d like to give the story? I appreciate any time you'd be willing to take.**

 **Enjoy**

 **-HybridsRule792**


End file.
